The third thod is to stun them with a captive bolt pistol before bleeding them out. This tool shoots a tal bolt into the cow’s skull, rendering it instantly unconscious, after which its throat is cut to drain the blood.
But since the camp lacked such professional slaughtering equipnt...
Feng Shan thought for a mont, then decided to christen his "tactical master."
He first herded the two cattle to a secluded spot to avoid scaring the won with the bloody scene, then pulled out his gun and aid it at their foreheads.
After two gunshots rang out.
The two cattle fell to the ground.
Next, Old Zhang stepped forward, taking charge without hesitation. He looked full of vim and vigor, radiating an air of competence.
He briskly rolled up his sleeves, a gleaming sharp knife in hand, and strode over to the dead cattle. As he walked, he spoke in a loud voice.
"I’ve never thought much of how foreigners do things. When it cos to butchering cattle, we’re the real experts. What’s this nonsense about not eating the organs? For free-range cattle like these, the organs are the best part! Bring a basin! Don’t let the blood go to waste. We’ll make a vermicelli and blood soup later. It’s delicious."
The other three old n chid in with their agreent.
"Right, right! You have to save the bull’s penis for . I need to... replenish my vitality."
"Get outta here! What do you need it for? Back when we were young, your piss stream was the shortest of all."
"So what if my stream was short? Yours forked! It split in two when you were young, and now it splits in five! And you have the nerve to talk about ."
The old n went back and forth, trading jabs.
Fortunately, they were speaking Chinese, so the foreign workers and Bear Tribe mbers nearby couldn’t understand. They just watched with confused expressions, wondering why the old n had suddenly started arguing.
Feng Jun was listening from the side, thoroughly enjoying the show. He found the old n’s bickering hilarious and wanted to listen a little longer, but before he knew it, Feng Shan slapped him on the shoulder.
"Don’t just stand there enjoying the fun. Go get so salt and water from the Ice River."
It had to be said, while Old Zhang had a sharp tongue, his skills were impeccable.
Holding the sharp knife, his movents were practiced and steady. After finding the right spot,
with a swift, decisive motion, he sliced cleanly through the blood vessels in the cow’s neck. The action was fluid and seamless, without a hint of hesitation or delay.
As the vessels were cut, blood imdiately began to gush out in small, crimson spurts, flowing continuously into the waiting basin.
Seeing this, Feng Jun sprang into action. Following the procedure he had learned, he quickly poured the salt and Ice River water mixture into the basin of blood, then picked up a clean wooden stick and began to stir continuously.
Nash and the mbers of the Bear Tribe watched this scene from the side, completely bewildered.
They simply couldn’t understand why this was being done.
In the tribe, the usual practice after slaughtering a cow was to collect the blood and mix it with other ingredients like grains, fat, and spices, then stuff it into casings to make blood sausage. That was the only thod of processing blood they were familiar with.
But here, as Feng Jun stirred continuously, sothing magical happened.
The blood in the basin gradually began to coagulate. The once-liquid blood slowly thickened, eventually forming a gelatinous solid, like a block of Jell-O, waiting in the basin for the next step.
Old Zhang had just finished skinning the cow, his movents as smooth as flowing water. One look and you could tell he was a seasoned expert.
He glanced back at the basin and yelled.
"Feng Jun, go get a pot of water and bring it to a boil. Cut the blood into cubes, simr them on low for five minutes, then cover the pot and let it sit for half an hour. After that, take them out and drain the water."
"Got it." Feng Jun replied, turning nimbly to start a fire.
After giving instructions for the blood, Old Zhang waved to Feng Shan and the others, calling them over to help.
He then took his sharp knife and sliced open the cow’s abdon. As the blade cut through the muscle, a cloud of steam billowed out, carrying a unique sll.
Old Zhang paid it no mind, reaching in and pulling out the still-steaming entrails one by one.
The heart, liver, stomach, omasum, and intestines were all laid out on the grass. Though the scene was a bit bloody, it had the raw, authentic feel of daily life.
"You, you, and you. Take this offal to the Ice River and wash it clean. We’ll make a pot of braised offal later." Old Zhang glanced at the contents of the organs—mostly undigested grass—and pointed to a few mbers of the Bear Tribe.
The Bear Tribe mbers took the offal to the riverbank and began to wash it carefully.
The water of the Ice River flowed over the organs, washing away the surface blood and impurities.
The bloody, visceral sll gradually spread through the water, attracting nurous cold-water fish to co and feed.
Next, it was ti to butcher the beef.
When the sharp blade slowly sliced through the ribeye near the cow’s chest, a stunning sight appeared before their eyes.
A beautiful landscape of intermingled fat was revealed.
The fat was like natural marble veining, fine and evenly distributed between the muscle fibers. The delicate strands were arranged in a beautiful, intricate pattern, as if delicate snowflakes had been scattered throughout the at.
It was so beautiful you couldn’t look away.
"This beef is gorgeous! This must be what the foreigners call ’snowflake beef.’ Any dish made with this is bound to be delicious," Old Zhang exclaid in admiration.
As he spoke, he reached out a hand filled with affection and gently stroked the at, as if touching a rare treasure.
For a good chef, seeing a top-tier ingredient inspires a deep, heartfelt appreciation, like eting a kindred spirit. They are filled with the impulse to cook it with care and let its most delicious splendor shine.
Next, Old Zhang began to cut the strip loin.
The strip loin is located on the outer part of the cow’s back, just outside the tenderloin.
When he removed this cut, everyone saw that it also had beautiful, snowflake-like fat marbling.
However, the marbling wasn’t as dense as the ribeye’s, appearing slightly more sparse.
But even so, the veining was still clearly visible, a testant to the high quality of the beef. One glance was enough to know that this, too, was a rare and excellent cut of at.
As the butchering of the first cow was completed, Feng Shan stood to the side, his eyes wide with disbelief.
He never could have imagined that the results of butchering this cow would be so far beyond his expectations.
The overall quality of the at from this cow was exceptionally good. He had heard from Jeff before that the yield of top-grade snowflake beef from an Angus cow was typically around 12% to 18% of the carcass weight.
For example, for a 900-pound Angus cow, the carcass weight would be about 540 pounds. That ans the weight of top-grade snowflake beef would likely be between 60 and 80 pounds.
But this Angus cow before him completely shattered that conventional wisdom. After all the at was butchered, Feng Shan made a rough visual estimate. The weight of the top-grade snowflake beef he had taken out was already over 120 pounds.
Old Zhang couldn’t help but praise,
"Feng Shan, your cattle are sothing else! The quality of the at is outstanding! I’ve been a chef for many years and traveled far and wide, seeing all sorts of fine ats, but I’ve truly never seen beef this good before. Just looking at the marbling and color, you can tell it’s extraordinary. I just wonder how it tastes."
"We’ll know once we try it." Feng Shan chuckled, a hint of confidence on his face. He casually picked up a knife and skillfully selected a piece of the best tenderloin.
He placed it on a wooden block, and his knife beca a blur. With a few swift cuts, he had sliced the beef into thin, even strips.
After cutting it, he tossed in so fine salt and mixed it casually with his hands a few tis.
"Now *that’s* how you eat! The tenderloin is the only part of the whole cow that’s best eaten raw." Seeing this, Old Zhang imdiately gave him a thumbs-up in praise.
"Would you like to try it first, sir?" Feng Shan offered the at to Old Zhang.
"Don’t mind if I do. at like this is perfectly fine to eat raw." Old Zhang picked up a pinch of the raw beef strips and put it in his mouth, chewing slowly.
Seeing Old Zhang start to eat, Feng Shan also picked up a pinch and put it in his mouth.
’As expected of top-grade Angus snowflake beef.’
The mont it entered his mouth, the fresh, tender at was an incredible surprise. It felt as if it would lt on his tongue with the slightest pressure. The texture was as delicate as fine silk gliding over skin, each fiber exuding its own unique character.
Moreover, the most praiseworthy part was that the beef had no gamy taste whatsoever—only a pure, aty aroma. The savory fragrance lingered in his mouth, and the more he chewed, the more endlessly flavorful it beca.
"Good at. Top-tier at. You’d be hard-pressed to find this back ho," Old Zhang said, nodding repeatedly and clicking his tongue in admiration.
He had knocked around the culinary world for so many years and had seen all kinds of ingredients, but this beef from the Crown Territory was a true eye-opener.
If word of this ever got back ho, it would probably cause an uproar in the entire restaurant industry.
Which of those great chefs and restaurant owners wouldn’t want to serve such top-tier at at their own tables?
...
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